Making Goals
by AcaWiedersehen
Summary: Collage AU. When Jane Shepard sustains an injury during a crucial soccer match it puts her on suspension at Citadel University. With soccer being her life, it's difficult to make do... So naturally, when the illusive Cerberus University comes knocking on her door begging for her skills, she finds herself playing for the enemy. [Definitely Miranda/Fem!Shepard]
1. Prologue

**Making Goals**

 **A/N** : Sadly, I do not own Mass Effect. I'm aware that's a shocker to most, but try not to be too devestated. But let me quick say that if I did own ME, there would be quite a few changes... Namely _ **"Future Space Bisexuals".**_

* * *

A full soccer stadium roars to life. Cameras flash, people clap, and sometimes a shirt or two lift by means of showing the spectators just what team is being rooted for and by whom. It's beautiful, intense, and euphoric to a young and enigmatic Jane Shepard.

It was her Sophomore year at Citadel, and it was the game that would make or break it all. Semifinals.

For being a sophomore, it was quite the honor of being Forward on a championship-winning, big-league team. (Sure it wasn't the olympics, but for Shepard it was close enough.)

The score was 3-4, and the ball was located just outside of the opposing teams goal.

Cerberus.

They were a tough team to beat.

The goalie; dark-skinned and lean in stature, was proving to be the most dangerous in terms of their victory. He blocked everything that came his way... But Shepard was hoping to change that.

Garrus gripped the dirtied and wet soccer ball with tan hands, shifting it slightly within in his grasp. With very little twirl of the ball, a stream of water droplets flew off and landed into the damp grass below. It was an eerie and intense setting for an eerie and intense game. _'Made it all the more real,_ Shepard noted.

Water droplets fell from Shepard's red bangs, obscuring her view for just a moment before everything shifted back into focus. Garrus, clad in a sticky and wet blue uniform, hoisted the ball above his head and looked all of his team members straight on. Although his stare scraped by them all, Shepard could feel it linger on her for just a split-second more than the rest.

This ball was hers.

This goal was hers.

This game was hers.

… And then it came.

And she slipped.

Flashes of white shrouded her vision as the crowd around her erupted in a mass collection of distorted and diverse noises. Some booed, some gasped, and few cheered. However all of that went away when Shepard looked down and saw something she thought she'd never see: her leg, twisted and mangled under the weight of her hip. She couldn't even feel the cool grass beneath; just a series of hot, flashing pains.

Then everything went dark.

* * *

A lone hand clenched itself tight, "you can't be serious. This is bullshit!"

Director Hackett, in all of his gray-haired glory, crossed his fingers and leaned back into his plush leather chair. He was anything but amused by Shepard's choice of words, but carried on nonetheless. "We're sorry Ms. Shepard. Our board of trustees has come to the unanimous decision that it just isn't in your best interest to continue."

Jane grit her teeth, "to hell with the board. _I feel fine_. That's all that should matter."

"If it's any consolation, your scholarship will remain intact-"

"I'm sorry, but to be quite honest I don't give a damn about the money. **I came here to play** _ **soccer**_."

"I know it's the last thing you want to hear, Ms. Shepard, but there's more to college than soccer."

This sentence stopped the existence of Jane Shepard immediately. Her breathing slowed, and her eyes hallowed as she looked upon her previous role model. "I'm sorry," she started, "I need some time to think."

Picking up both aluminum crutches in one quick sweep, Jane stood with practice. The cool metal burned her skin, trapping her in a weak and frail state.

It was all a load of shit.

"Please, recuperate wholly Ms. Shepard. If anything goes amiss, you're suspension will be extended, I'm sure."

Jane huffed. "You're acting like you don't have a say in the matter."

* * *

A gentle knock sounded upon a grand wooden door, followed by the noise of careful entrance.

"Miss Lawson, our top student and colleague. How can I help you?"

Miranda Lawson gently inserted herself into the dimly-lit interior of her Director's office. Her hair shifted and swayed as the variance of temperature created an unforeseen draft. Across from her the Director of Cerberus sat; his face hardly visible due to his choice "lighting circumstances". At first the dark room and brooding behavior of the Director had worried her, but over the years she had grown fond of the illusive demeanor that these factors brought. "Director Hawthorne, I believe we spoke over email about some ideas I wish to be taken into action?"

"Yes, I recall." He paused to lean forward, "...What might those be?"

First on the list, "Jane Shepard."

The illusive Director pursed his lips, pressing her forward.

"I recommend you consider recruiting her to join us, here, at Cerberus." The Australian's thick accent warped her words in a highly desirable way, making her sound more convincing than she already was.

"And why should I, or "we" if I include the board, consider this?"

"She's desperate and itching for action. She nearly handed us our _ends_ last fall, and I think she'd make a wonderful addition to our team."

"Oh?"

"Her statistics are amazing. From her freshman year at Citadel, she raked in profits beyond anything else we've seen here at Cerberus. And with her suspension and drive to continue playing, now is as good a chance as ever to convert her over."

"Ah, yes. She was suspended for concern of health. What do we plan to do about this?"

"We clearly don't have all information on her suspension, but it's safe to say that her injuries will keep her out of Citadel fields for over a year... If we were to transfer her here by next semester, after her injuries have officially healed, I'm sure that it will be reasonably safe for her to continue on our side."

"... And what if you're wrong, and her injuries cause her to be a liability?"

"I'll accept full responsibility."

The Director smiled. "You're just a student, Miranda. I'm sorry, but you hardly own the authority to make that choice. As well as the ability to accept another student's sports career as a liability."

Miranda straightened her posture and pursed her lips. The light chiffon blouse was suddenly making her feel very vulnerable. It was unsubstantial, just as she felt at that moment.

The Director grinned, "... I'll see what I can do."

* * *

 **A/N:** I hope the quick prologue is alright with you lot. It's pretty flashy (as in short and sporadic), but that's how I do things 'round these parts.

Please review! Thanks for reading! Next chapter is almost done, just going to extend it some more.


	2. First Practice

**Making Goals**

 **2.0**

 **A/N:** _Apparently Co-ed College teams are a thing... Rare, though._

 _For content purposes, I'll be abusing that truth._

* * *

Miranda gently opened the door to her apartment, mildly aggravated by the volume of a song drifting through the air.

Before her stood Jane Shepard, clad in a black sports bra and a pair of matching athletic shorts. Her lips danced as she sang along to Dion & The Belmont's original song, The Wanderer. The volume of her voice hitched as the chorus approached, "loud and proud" as she organized some books upon a lone wood shelving unit. _Apparently_ the young woman had figured out how to attach her phone to the televisions audio system.

 _"...I'm the type of guy that likes to roam around. I'm never in one place, I roam from town to town. And when I find myself fallin' for some girl... Yeah, I hop right into that car of mine, I drive around the world. Yeah I'm a wanderer. Yeah, a wanderer. I roam around, around, around, around-"_

As Jane turned, their eyes locked. Shepard fell silent and quickly fumbled around for her phone, smashing the white pause icon on its glassy LCD screen. "Uh- sorry. I didn't hear you come in..."

"Can't hear much of anything with music that loud, I'm sure."

Oddly enough, Shepard seemed unfazed by the Aussie's brute comment. "Jane Shepard," she introduced.

"I'm well aware." Miranda set her books down on her study-table. "Miranda Lawson."

"I'm well aware," she returned, no doubt teasing. It definitely didn't go unnoticed by Miranda, for she fell silent. "What major are you?"

"As of right now, physics. Top of my class, top marks in the history of the program..." Miranda's icy eyes locked onto Jane's piercing green. "To maintain these statistics, I am going to ask that you refrain from providing an outside distraction. Or multiple. Whichever you feel more prone to offer."

Not liking the tone of her new roommate, Jane crossed her arms and clicked her tongue. "Do me a favor and replace the stick that's up your ass with a lamp." Miranda's eyes narrowed. "That way maybe you'll lighten up."

In all honesty, Miranda wasn't angry. She was amused. Before any snark remarks could be fired from either one of their lips, Shepard's music started up again, louder this time.

"Oops," the red-head yelled over her tunes, "looks like I pushed a few buttons. I do that a lot." Miranda's lips twitched. That was probably the biggest understatement she had ever heard.

* * *

"...She's our Coach?"

"Play your cards right, maybe she'll choose you as Captain. Then you can spend every waking moment with her, planning every little thing that happens from here on out."

"I'm guessing you were stuck in that position once?"

"Yep," a pop was added for emphasis, "...withdrew my reign as soon as the night ended."

"I regret many choices in my life," Shepard sighed, "and joining this team is one of them."

At the side of the field Shepard and another lanky red-head sat, discussing their lovable coach.

"Her blue eyes could make a team forfeit in seconds," they drafted.

"Her hair is so big because it's full of secrets," Kelly began.

"...And black because she wanted something to low-key reflect her soul," Shepard finished.

Knowing that the two were talking about her, Miranda turned to look at them head-on. "Chambers, Shepard, get over here and start passing."

The two girls did as they were told and rushed over to the far net, grabbed a soccer ball, and began prodding it around. All the while the rest of the team joined in under Miranda's command, shuffling quickly in hopes to impress one another. It was Varsity's first day and Shepard was interested in seeing what The Great Cerberus had to offer.

"We got it going, let's roll." Miranda was focused and snappy as she began ordering the girls around. One by one the ball skipped down the field, expertly bouncing off the soles of each team member. "Don't be lazy with the passes, get them in. Nice and clean. Everything is quick and sharp."

It took a few moments before Shepard fell back into a familiar rhythm. God, how she had missed this... the feel of the wind smashing against her as a ball thudded thoughtlessly against her feet. Slowly she could hear the crowd around her roar to life- cheering her name, the Prodigy of Soccer. She was the best player of her day and she knew it. She lived it. She had to.

The overcast sky brought a drop of temperature, and everything inside and out of Shepard started to cool.

"Lawson, do you think we could do a practice game?" Shepard stopped with the ball as Jack Zero dove for it, accidentally sending her to the ground. The bald woman let out a string of curses as she brushed off some lone strands of grass from her knees.

Miranda cocked a brow, if only for a moment. "I suppose. Though, for the record, I have a plan Shepard, and I really don't enjoy you throwing it into a disarray."

"Noted."

With a small purse of her lips Miranda turned around towards a blue plastic bin. "After a quick water break, we'll split apart. Shirts versus skins." As she popped off the top she began calling the names of the Shirts, respectively. "Jane Shepard, Jack Zero, Gabriella Daniels, Jacob Taylor..." One by one Miranda Lawson gave out the team jerseys for the year.

Being honest with herself, Shepard quickly and highly approved of the original Cerberus design. That was something Cerberus University always had: Style. The orange stripes of the jersey accented well against the fresh, crisp hexagonal pattern of the rest of the shirt. With a soft athletic netting atop the shoulders, the Jersey was just as easily made for comfort. As Shepard turned the new article of clothing around, she was happy to see that her old number 4 (now decorated in orange) was still in place.

"You lot are on offense," Miranda concluded. As she marched towards the pile of soccer balls at the end of the field, no doubt to grab the best one, the rest of the team ran to the sidelines to grab their chance at a quick water break.

Shepard was the first to break the silence. "What happened to your hair?"

"Last semester our dorm found out that the RA had cancer. So, we shaved our heads for her in support," Jack replied.

"Is she okay?" Kelly asked.

"...It's cancer."

Shepard fell silent. Jack tossed back the rest of her water bottle and turned to Miranda. "Are you sure you're up for this? I personally think you'd be better off as the cheerleader."

Miranda, now outfitted in the same jersey as the rest of her team, tossed Jack a searing glare. "Don't forget who holds authority here, Zero." Each word came out laced with venom. Even Shepard was worried for a moment.

Clicking her teeth and turning away, Jack figured it best to leave Miranda alone... For the time being.

No more words were said until all players held their respective spots on the field. Without warning the ball came under the command of Shepard. Her passes were quick, sure, and perfect... Proof that she was a legacy, no doubt. Her ailment affected her performance little to none, but nonetheless, everyone could sense that she'd be sore the next day. But in that moment, Shepard didn't care. She was free again. Her heart soared as the ball soared into her goal.

She was back, baby.

* * *

"Shepard. A word?"

Kelly gently passed Shepard, pressing her hand against her shoulder before whispering a crisp "good luck".

In the distance the sun began to set, turning the field around them dark. It was nature's way of telling the team that practice was over. A few lights offered them solace under the dim sky.

After removing her gaze from Kelly, she let it settle upon the raved-haired girl across from her. "Of course."

There was no dancing around the question. Miranda didn't do that, she was always short and to the point. Shepard actually admired that about her. "Would you like to be team captain?"

"It's my first day here. Are you sure that's something that you'd like?" Shepard questioned.

"As much as I'd like to find someone else, you're the best candidate." Miranda replied.

 _Or the only candidate_ , Shepard thought. From what Kelly told her, that could very much be the case.

Miranda continued forward, taking Shepard's silence as a concern. "You've been captain of the Citadel team for a year, and everyone knows you have plenty of knowledge to share. If it weren't for the accident last year, you would have scraped by us and earned a shot in the championship." The young woman didn't like admitting these things, but she knew she had to say whatever was necessary in this case. **Cerberus needed Shepard**.

Shepard pursed her lips. Miranda made a hard bargain. "As long as I get to call the shots, it's a deal."

"Just remember who's really in charge."

Shepard crossed her arms and lifted her chin.

"See you at the dorms."

"Wait," the arms that she had so meticulously crossed flew outward, as if she could stop Miranda with some simple movements. "Miranda, wait-" Shepard quickly began gathering all of the soccer balls that littered the field. "MIRANDA-"

Pale features made an appearance once more.

"One of the many tasks of the Captain is post-practice clean-up."


	3. Break Those Walls

**MAKING GOALS**

 **3.0**

A/N: I think I'm going to switch tenses. i.e., past to present. With present tense, ideally, I'll be able to fit more details in for something that spans a small amount of time. Hopefully I'll find something that is comfortable to stick with. Feel free to PM me and lemme know what you think!

ALSO- to the one review asking about the forms of these characters... **They're all human in this AU**! Thanks for asking, hope that clears everything up. :D

* * *

Finding the shed for their team's soccer equipment had proved to be more difficult than Shepard originally anticipated. Walking around for what felt like hours eventually leads her to a spot beneath her school bleachers where hundreds of various items rest. Some cones here, a few nets there... Everything important for some upcoming drills she already has planned. Surely Miranda will be curious as to what ideas she has concocted. Maybe even impressed?

After what feels like ages, Shepard finally makes her way into the shared dorm. A fresh and delicious scent wafts through the air, leaving her in a sort of trance. It is in that moment that Shepard thanks whomever is above for gracing them with a small kitchenette. Dorms at the Citadel were hardly as fancy. _Whatever Miranda is cooking up better be for two,_ Shepard hums.

"Welcome back, Captain." Miranda greets.

Shepard grins before coming into the kitchen. "My first act is to change that."

"Change what?" Miranda asks.

" _Captain._ From now on, I'm the General." Shepard explains.

Miranda doesn't even let Shepard defend her idea. "No."

"Come on," Shepard starts anyways, "Commander, at least."

Miranda's lips flick upwards before settling back into their usual scowl.

Score one for _Commander_ Shepard.

Turning her gaze to what is occupying [Miranda's] attention, Shepard becomes serious. "What are you making? If you don't mind my asking."

Miranda clicks her tongue. "Lemon chicken. I made sure to make some for you, too."

"Oh?" Shepard is shocked.

Pulling up on a sleek black handle, Miranda lifts the top of the George Forman and reveals two perfectly cooked pieces of meat. "I had two pieces exactly. You're lucky." She grabs two plates from the above counter and sets one hunk of meat on each.

Shepard gratefully takes the plate and a knife/fork pair. She appreciates this more than Miranda can understand. "Thank you," she says. And means it.

Miranda does the same. "...Now don't say I never did anything nice for you."

"You sound like my grandmother." Together the duo begin towards their small island of a table. With every step she takes, Shepard is consciously careful not to drop the plate; fully aware of how awkward and horrible the results would be. "How were classes?" Shepard asks, taking a seat and slicing into her meal.

"As good as they can be. Over the years I've started to appreciate the professors that jump right into class rather than focus on the syllabus."

"It's great unless you have an assignment due the first day."

Miranda swallows. "I'll have to disagree. The assignment is the best part."

Shepard shakes her head solemnly, worried for this "Miranda Lawson" that sits before her. To Shepard, the result is the best part. Not what it takes to get there.

"Your accent," Shepard starts out of nowhere, "is it Australian?"

"Yes." Miranda nods. "And yours is midwestern. Indiana?"

"Wisconsin." Shepard stabs a fork into another slunk of chicken. It tastes amazing. "Where are you from in Australia?"

"Sydney."

"Never been. I've always wanted to go to the Opera House, though. Have you gone?"

Miranda breathes in and focuses on her plate. "Once or twice when I was young. I can't remember much... And I don't have the photos to prove it." She slows for a moment, probably reminiscing. "...I remember the stage, though. I've always wanted to go back." Ending her _face journey_ , Miranda turns her attention back to Shepard and the food before her. "What about Wisconsin? Do you miss it?"

Shepard shrugs. "I do. I do, but Colorado is actually not that different." She pauses before correcting herself, "I take that back. If anything, it's better."

"You don't miss your family?" Miranda asks, curious.

A beat. "...I don't have a family."

Miranda tenses. She can feel that she's getting too personal, so she does what she does best; escapes the situation before it goes too far. Thinking fast, Miranda quickly sweeps her right arm and purposely knocks her fork to the floor. "Oops," she exclaims while heading to the fork, "I'll get it."

While under the table she mentally scolds herself. She wasn't here- neither of them were here- to make friends. She, Miranda, was here for school and soccer. Shepard should be here for the same.

Pressures are too high to get drama in the way.

Popping back up from under the table, Miranda grabs at her plate. "Are you finished?" She asks, hands already on Shepard's as well.

Shepard's brows draw together in confusion. "I guess-"

"Good. Go get your work done, I'll see you tomorrow at practice." Miranda is literally pushing Shepard away. "Make sure you check to see if The Director has eMailed you at all regarding your transfer."

And with that, Shepard is alone in her tiny room. "...Okay?"

 _Trying to take a shower later will probably be awkward_ , she thinks. _Especially if I'm not allowed to leave_.

* * *

"Oh, **dude**!" A familiar woman with short, shaved hair meanders over to Jane's seat. _Shepard had been spotted_. "Can I have some?" Throwing caution to the wind and not caring that the class was about to start, Jack takes a seat on Jane Shepard's table. Shepard finds herself giving Jack the smallest of smiles.

{Normally the 'brute and blunt' type was incompatible with her own, but Jack seemed to be an exception. Jane knew that Jack meant well... As her upbringing taught her to show good intentions in bad ways. This, as Jack explained, is actually why she's so into sports. Sports had been the source of structure she missed when she was young.}

Shepard reaches into her bag before a familiar starts up from behind. "Shepard, what are you eating?" Miranda, no doubt.

"Donuts and Slim-Jims." Shepard replies nonchalantly.

"And what are you drinking?" Miranda prods.

Shepard sighs, defeated. She knows Miranda can see her liter bottle of Pepsi; it's as clear as Grunt's complexion.

"Tell me, is that a good meal for a budding soccer champion?" Miranda asks.

"It's a snack." Shepard retaliates. "Hardly a meal."

Jack comes back into their world by snatching a few donuts. "Seriously, Cheerleader?" She starts, shoving a whole powdered donut into her face, "not only are you ruining my life on the field, but now you'll be ruining my class time too?"

Now it's Miranda's turn to sigh. "I'm yelling at Shepard, not you Jack. How do you figure I'm ruining your life in class?"

"By _existing_ in my class." Jack crosses her arms. "Shepard, it's nice seeing a familiar face in one of my classes. Miranda? Go fuck yourself."

Before Shepard can stop the crass woman from leaving, Jack is already on the other side of the Lecture Hall. Alone.

"What's the issue between you two?" Shepard prods, genuinely clueless.

Miranda remains silent, watching Jack closely.

Shepard was expecting some remark or clue out of Miranda, but nothing came. It was weird. Whatever had happened between the two seemed strictly between them. Everything was so different here... Things were quiet. People were quiet. Secrets stayed secret, and sometimes people just genuinely seemed uninterested in one another. It wasn't like Citadel University at all.

After a long bout of hesitation, Miranda gently sets her items on the table next to Jane. (Had it been up to her, she'd be a few tables away by now.) Her eyes shift over from Jack to Shepard, and every now and then she watches as Jane switches between eating Slim-Jims and mini powdered donuts.

Shepard turns forward slightly. It reminds her of the times Ashley would study her caged animals. Researching, learning, watching..."Can I help you?"

The answer is an obvious yes, though Miranda doesn't say a word.

There's still a lot about Miranda that Shepard doesn't know.

* * *

A/N: I'll probably start going through and extending previous chapters. Keep an eye out. For now, this is just like the "theatrical cut" of a movie. Directors cut is coming soon.


End file.
